


Jump Into Your White Mobile And Run Away

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Nanase Haruka, Genderfluid Matsuoka Rin, Light Angst, Model Matsuoka Rin, Nonbinary Nanase Haruka, Other, Rinharu Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru is an artist, Rin was their muse, things happened and now they're sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump Into Your White Mobile And Run Away

**Author's Note:**

> This might not be clear, but Rin is genderfluid , Haru is agender, and they're both DFAB.  
> Also, there's a slightly transphobic character in this so if you're triggered easily by transphobia maybe skip this one.  
> Also please don't judge my terrible porn/writing

Rin clenches the arms of her seat and snarls, wishing that she could reach through her TV and slap the interviewer across his smarmy face.

For a start, he’s about a billion times too close to Haru for Rin’s comfort, and he won’t stop fucking calling them ‘she’. Rin sees her own anger mirrored in the wrinkling of their nose, and squashes the sudden spurt of affection she feels with a growl.

Or at least, she tells herself she does.

She _knew_ that seeing Haru would upset her. That’s why she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t watch the interview when she saw that Haru’s art had won an award and was going to be on the news. Yet she’d found herself picking up the remote, telling herself that it wouldn’t hurt to watch an old friend (friend? is that all she could say to describe what she and Haru had been?) and congratulate them on their success.

“So…” the interviewer drawls, cheesy grin plastered on his face as he leans in to Haru. “What are you wearing tonight?”

Completely deadpan, they look him straight in the eye and respond, “Clothes.”

He gives a fake laugh. “Very funny! But what designer?”

“Rin.”

Hearing her name come from them again almost brings tears to Rin’s eyes, and she has to look away from her TV, compose herself. When she looks back, the interviewer is cocking his head, condescending.

“Oh? And who’s Rin?”

Haru doesn’t say anything, but instead waves a hand at the nearest painting.

Rin remembers the day she modelled for that- Six hours lying naked in a bathtub, covered in glitter, letting the water go cold. She’d spat insults at Haru in her boredom and frustration, about how she was better than this, she was a _model_ , why the _fuck_ were they making her do this-

And Haru had flicked paint onto her face.

As she sputtered, Haru quietly went back to their canvas. “I’m sorry to make you do this. But I need you.”

Rin choked on her sentence. _You idiot. You know they don’t mean it the way you want them to mean it._

She’d sunk back into the bath, growling “Be glad you’re pretty,” and spent another three hours stewing.

The camera swings from the painting back to the interview, and the man flashes his blinding white teeth again. “So, she made your clothes?”

Rin, for the first time, takes in what Haru is wearing, eyes widening.

Rin hated to see Haru’s clothes getting ruined by flecks of paint from when their painting was so intense that they didn’t realise the amount of mess they made, so she’d put together her crude sewing skills, and made them a smock to wear when they painted.

She’d been embarrassed to hand it to them, to give an artist like Haru something so plain and ugly, but their face had shone when she’d given it to them.

“I’m sorry it’s so ugly.”

“You made it. It can’t be ugly.”

That was about a week before their first kiss.

In the background, the interview is still going, Haru dodging questions about clothing and prodding the interviewer back onto actually doing his _fucking job_ and talking about another of Haru’s paintings.

“So, does Rin have a twin brother? Or are you just imagining her as a man here?”

Rin’s swell of anger is cut short by the way Haru clenches their fists and spits “No, it’s just _Rin_.” The interviewer pulls back, shocked for a reason completely different to Rin, and straightens his tie, before asking his first sensible question since he’d started.

“So, what’s the meaning behind this?”

Rin knows before Haru opens their mouth. That was the first day she’d ever presented as masculine in front of Haru, nervously winding a bandage around her chest and pulling on her baggiest clothes before heading into the kitchen they’d shared.

Haru had taken one look at her before striding over and lifting the front of her shirt, silently shaking their head.

“Haru! Wha-“

“Take that off.”

Behind the bandage, anger flared, and Rin shoved them back against the wall. “Fuck you! I-”

“I have a spare binder that’s too big for me. It’ll probably work for you. Binding like that isn’t safe.”

Rin leaned over Haru, staring with her mouth open. They looked away, a light blush forming on their cheeks.

“I’m not a girl. Please start referring to me with they and them. Are you happy with she?”

“I’m happy with anything. Really happy. Really fucking happy, Haru.”

That was when Haru pressed their mouth to Rin’s wide grin.

“Go put it on. I want to paint you again.”

“I have a shoot soon.”

“Enjoy yourself while you can.”

“Trust.”

In the present, Haru was still away from her, and still speaking to the interviewer. “The painting is about trust.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Well. We don’t have to try and guess the meaning behind this one, do we?” the interviewer waggles his eyebrows and the camera swings to a new painting, one that makes Rin turn bright red.

She didn’t think Haru would put _that_ painting in.

She’d been red then, too, unable to believe that Haru could be so comfortable with just pushing their face between her legs like that. It’d taken her a while to stop freaking out at the prospect of having sex with a person with a vagina, and as Haru’s tongue ran over her clit, she wondered what the fuck she’d been so worked up about. Haru did something entirely new with their tongue, and Rin decided it would be best if she shut her thoughts off for a bit.

Towards the end, as Haru’d been keeping her on edge for so long that she was crying into her hands, crying “Haru, _please,_ fuck,” like a prayer, Haru had pulled back, staring up at her. As she peeked through her fingers, she saw Haru smiling, she’d never seen that before and _God_ , it was beautiful, and sliding two fingers into her.

Her neck arched, and she let out a yell when she came.

Boneless, she let Haru crawl up her body and kiss her. When they pulled back, Rin ran a hand through their hair, grinning. “I think I’m going to need about ten more of those.”

“Orgasms?”

“Maybe in a minute. I meant your smiles.”

Haru frowned, and Rin pulled them in for another kiss.

“Let me draw you first. And make you come again.” Haru slipped off the bed that they’d come to share, and padded away.

“Yes. It’s about love.”

Rin and the interviewer choked on air in remarkable synchronisation.

_Love?_

“Well, yes. If you say so.” Something across the room catches the interviewer’s eye. “Trouble in paradise here, then?”

The camera moves. Oh. That painting.

Haru and her had their worst argument that night, about Rin and modelling and Haru and art and school and departure, and Haru had tried to paint her again, tried to make it look right, but Rin had snarled and Haru had frowned and thrown a huge splodge of black paint right across the canvas, and that had been the end of it.

It was beautiful, really- Haru had given her a beautiful shark tail, put her in a wonderful pond, but they’d sharpened her teeth, twisted her smile, and put a splatter of black right across her heart, and Rin couldn’t help but think that it really ruined the effect.

The interviewer gave up on prodding Haru for an explanation, and moved on to a final painting in the room. “And this one?”

This was new.

She was in it- She always was, in all of Haru’s paintings. But this time, Haru was there with her- Arms outstretched through murky black water, reaching out towards Rin, who was laughing and grinning and swimming away into clear sunlight.

She vaguely recognizes it- It’d been just a sketch then, on the day of their final argument, the day of slammed doors and screaming, and a bitter cold in her heart as she sat crying on the train, headed away from Haru for the last time.

The interviewer, blessedly, was silent.

“Who is Rin?”

Haru was silent. “Rin was my roommate in university. And my… Lover.”

Rin’s heart is about to punch through her chest.

“Isn’t that a bit of an outdated term?”

“Girlfriend or boyfriend doesn’t really fit Rin.”

“And where is Rin now?”

Haru looks away from the camera, and Rin feels like crying. “Rin dropped out of school to pursue modelling. I hear she’s quite famous now. There are advantages to being able to model as multiple genders”

“Do you miss her?”

Haru bites their lip. “Every fucking day.”

The interviewer jumps back at Haru saying “fuck” on air, and the television cuts to a commercial as Rin finds herself reaching for her phone, and writing two messages with shaking fingers, sending them before she can feel regret.

_“I saw you on TV”_

_“I feel the same.”_

Her phone rings a second after she sets it down.

There’s an address, that of Haru’s studio. Rin feels a swell of annoyance that Haru thinks she’s forgotten it, but then-

_“Come home.”_

**Author's Note:**

> ahah this is about a billion years late and shite and im sorry  
> the title is from i'm not yours by angus and julia stone  
> my url on tumblr is rinmatsuokka bye now


End file.
